APSA President-Elect Rogers Smith has appointed a Task Force on New Partnerships, chaired by Robert Lieberman of Johns Hopkins University, to propose new initiatives in the areas of research, teaching, and civic engagement. The task force seeks your input as it develops proposals to be implemented, with Council approval, during the 2018-2019 academic year. Deadline for submissions is June 15, 2018.

Higher education in America today is embattled on many fronts, and the discipline of political science is often singled out for criticism. The roots of these challenges are deep and broad and cannot be addressed by APSA alone. The Task Force on New Partnerships, with members drawn from a variety of higher education institutions across the country, seeks to identify ways APSA can form, stimulate, and aid new partnerships—nationally, regionally, and locally—that can strengthen the contributions of our profession to public discourse and make them more visible. It particularly seeks to enhance APSA aid to scholars at non-R1 institutions. The Task Force has located substantial funding to enable APSA to institutionalize desirable initiatives.

These initiatives might include APSA support for national, regional, and local research on public issues collaboratively prepared by scholars of different political perspectives, showing that many vital facts can be agreed upon, even if policy differences remain; APSA efforts to promote the sharing of teaching expertise between scholars at different institutions, with R1 political scientists conveying the newest developments in their fields, and community college scholars providing insights into teaching first generation students; and APSA recognition for many forms of civic engagement that can help scholars persuade their institutions of the value of this work.

And they might include better ideas from you! Please communicate suggestions to Task Force members, to APSA staff, and to President-Elect Smith. All suggestions may be sent to this e-mail address: partnershipstaskforce@apsanet.org. If you wish to contact individual members of the Task Force, their e-mails are:

That there has been a massive increase in income inequality in the United States over the past generation is no longer news. Still, the transformation has been extraordinary in several respects. It is not just that the shift in relative economic resources has been very large; it is that the gains have been extremely concentrated at the very top of the income distribution. Occupy Wall Street’s “We are the 99%” slogan was perhaps insufficiently inclusive—the largest gains have gone not just to the top 1%, but to the top .1% and top .01%. The latter group has seen its share of national income grow by roughly 600% in the past 40 years (Saez 2015). Equally striking is the distinctiveness of the American experience. Although there has been some growth of inequality in most affluent democracies, the United States is an outlier, both with respect to changes in broad measures of inequality and with respect to the hyper-concentration of gains at the very top of the income distribution (Piketty 2014). Racially grounded conflict has always shaped the American experience, not least with respect to the distribution of economic opportunities and rewards. But where does race fit into the profound drift toward economic oligarchy we are experiencing? On the effects of rising inequality the case is clear: disadvantaged minorities have on the whole been big losers from the upward redistribution of national income. Most obviously, anything that makes existing wealth a bigger source of future economic wellbeing is going to be relatively disadvantageous to those who have little of it, as is true for historically disadvantaged minorities in the United States (Piketty 2014). There is also evidence of a “Great Gatsby curve” that suggests declining opportunities for upward mobility as a society’s income distribution becomes more unequal (Krueger 2012). Because minorities are disproportionately located toward the bottom of the income distribution, they would likely be net losers from any decline in mobility associated with rising income inequality.

During the last two decades, a historic shift has occurred in the voting patterns of the indigenous population of some South American countries. Indigenous people, who traditionally voted for a mix of different types of parties, have begun to vote in large numbers for new left-wing parties. This shift has been particularly pronounced in the Central Andean countries, specifically Bolivia, Ecuador, and Peru, which have the largest indigenous populations. What explains this historic shift? Why have indigenous voters embraced leftist parties in recent years? And what are the consequences of this shift for policies in the region? This chapter argues that leftist parties in the Central Andes have used a combination of ethnic and populist appeals to win the support of large numbers of indigenous people. Whereas centrist and rightist parties have largely avoided politicizing ethnicity, leftist parties have sought to appeal to indigenous voters as indigenous people. They have forged close ties to the indigenous movement, recruited indigenous candidates, invoked indigenous symbols, and advocated indigenous rights. These appeals have resonated with many indigenous people who have become increasingly ethnically conscious in recent years.

Leftist parties have also used classical populist appeals to attract indigenous as well as nonindigenous voters. I define classical populist appeals as a mix of personalist, antiestablishment, nationalist, and state interventionist appeals that are focused on the subaltern sectors of the population. Leftist parties have recruited charismatic candidates, denounced the traditional parties, vigorously opposed market-oriented reforms, criticized foreign intervention in their countries, and called for income redistribution. These types of appeals have resonated among indigenous people because they continue to be overwhelmingly poor and they have benefited little from the policies implemented by the traditional parties beginning in the 1980s. Although some centrist and right-wing parties have also employed populist appeals, they have not done so to nearly the same degree as leftist parties.

Zoltan L. Hajnal, University of California, San DiegoJessica L. Trounstine, University of California, Merced

“Overall, only 47% of black voters ultimately support the winning candidate. Latino and Asian American voters are in the middle of the range.”

This chapter assesses the effect of race and class divisions on the urban political arena in the United States. It presents an array of data from our previous research outlining the roles that race and class play in shaping both individual political choice and overall political representation in urban politics. We found that both factors significantly shape political behavior and outcomes but that race is the primary driver of urban politics across most contexts. The centrality of race and, to a lesser extent, class in shaping the vote has widespread consequences for representation at the local level. Across an array of different indicators, racial and ethnic minorities and other disadvantaged groups are poorly represented in the local arena. Minorities are more apt than whites to end up on the losing side of the vote, they are grossly underrepresented in elected offices, and—ultimately—they are less satisfied with city government than whites. Local democracy, by almost all accounts, is more likely to represent the interests of whites and the wealthy than those of minorities and the poor. There are, however, potential solutions. Turnout is a linchpin for several forms of minority achievement. Expanded turnout is associated with more minorities in office and more minority-friendly policies—which, in turn, are linked with greater minority satisfaction with local government. In addition to turnout, this chapter highlights a range of other documented solutions, including local policy change and institutional reform.

Michael Jones-Correa, University of Pennsylvania
Sophia Jordán Wallace, University of Washington

“In essence, the difference between class and classconsciousness is not only theoretically important but also methodologically distinguishable.”

Since the 1970s, inequality in the United States has increased dramatically, with income and wealth gaps widening and reaching their highest levels since the Great Depression (Atkinson, Picketty, and Saez 2011; Congressional Budget Office 2011; Kopczuk and Saez 2004; Picketty and Saez 2003; Pierson 2016). The findings in this research clearly indicate significant disparities among racial and ethnic groups. Furthermore, within given racial and ethnic groups, there can be substantial differences in inequality, for example, among Asian Americans ( Junn and Lee 2016). This chapter focuses on Latinos in the United States, who at 17% of the national population comprise the largest racial and ethnic minority group (US Census 2015). As this population continues to grow, Latinos are already or soon will be the majority ethnic group in some states. Levels of inequality between Latinos and other groups, particularly whites, are considerable, with Latinos the racial or ethnic group most negatively affected by the Great Recession of 2008 (Pew Research Center 2014). Thus, while the widening gap in wealth and income is apparent across all groups, since 2007 has increased disproportionately between Latinos and other Americans. Given this group’s relative size, the potential consequences of this continued inequality for broader US society are substantial. While Latinos and inequality has not gone unstudied, it has received little attention in political science. Studies exist examining Latinos’ unequal access to health care and its consequences (Sanchez and Medeiros 2012; Sanchez, Medeiros, and Sanchez-Youngmann 2012) and their uneven political representation (Casellas 2010; Hero and Preuhs 2014; Rouse 2013; Wallace 2014) but there are remarkably few about the effects of economic inequality and its political consequences for Latinos. We argue that it is critical to more comprehensively examine Latino inequality given its depth and breadth across many dimensions of social, political, and economic life for this group, including wealth and class, health, the criminal justice system, education, and political representation.

In this chapter, the task force focuses on the beliefs and opinions that Americans have about inequality. Specifically, we examine the commitment to egalitarianism as a norm and how this commitment varies across groups defined by race, class, ideology, and political party. Additionally, we examine support for governmental efforts to reduce income inequality across racial groups, and the extent to which attitudes about equality in the abstract are shaped by attitudes about equality for different class and racial groups. Lastly, we focus on levels of racial group identity, how this concept can be measured, and whether it varies over time and across different groups.

Since 1984, the American National Election Studies (ANES) has sought to measure support for the value of egalitarianism. The battery, originally designed by Stanley Feldman, consists of six items incorporating the concepts of equal opportunity, concerns about the pace of equal rights, whether the failure to provide equal opportunity is a big problem, whether equality should be a societal goal, and whether the pursuit of equality would lead to fewer problems in this country.1 One of the virtues of this scale is that it is not designed to capture egalitarianism on any specific dimension, such as gender, sexual orientation, class, race, or ethnicity. Instead, it refers to equality more broadly, and hence ostensibly measures egalitarianism as an abstract value. The Cronbach’s alpha on this six-item scale approaches or exceeds conventional thresholds for coherent attitudinal scales. For example, the alpha on the egalitarianism scale was .78 in the 2012 ANES survey, which had 5,914 respondents (2,054 in the face-to-face component of the study and 3,860 in the Internet component). This statistic varied considerably across the two survey modes, with an alpha of .82 in the Internet survey but an alpha of only .68 in the face-to-face survey.2 It is not clear why this discrepancy appears but the answer may partly lie in the fact that the two samples are not equivalent, with the face-toface sample having a higher response rate (38% versus 2%) and fewer, but a more representative number of, college graduates.

“Aboriginal peoples have come to define themselves less as separate races and more as separate nations with distinctive identities, cultures, languages, and goals of self-determination.”

This chapter examines the puzzling persistence of racial economic disparities in Canada, which continue despite a social safety net and a model of diversity governance that many assume are far more robust, redistributive, and egalitarian than those that exist south of the 49th parallel. Many racial minorities remain disadvantaged compared to white Canadians, and the picture is even more troubling for Aboriginal peoples, who face incredible disparities in terms of almost every socioeconomic indicator. Why did not the transformative policy regimes introduced during the postwar decades in welfare, immigration, equality rights, multiculturalism, and Aboriginal policy have greater success in alleviating racial economic inequality? We argue that these policy regimes largely failed to eliminate racial inequality in Canada because, simply stated, that was not their original purpose. The policies were put in place during an era when Canada was not as racially diverse as it is now. In 1961, more than 96% of Canadians traced their ancestry to Europe, and Aboriginal people, who represented less than 2% of the population, were not politically mobilized. As a result, the postwar policy regimes were shaped primarily by the concerns of a white European population divided primarily by ethnicity, language, and culture rather than race. Canadian society and politics became more racially complex in the 1980s and 1990s as a result of changing immigration flows and the political mobilization of the Aboriginal peoples. However, established ways of thinking about difference and growing constraints on state activism ensured that the inherited policy architecture was not retooled explicitly to address racial economic inequality. The welfare state underwent major retrenchment with disproportionate—although not purposeful—effects on racial minorities.

“We focus on the state’s welfare and criminal justice systems . . . because the institutions and agents of these systems play pivotal roles in the operations of state power, governance, citizenship, and politics in RCS communities.”

In 2015, Americans learned from the US Department of Justice (DOJ) that public authorities had imposed a “predatory system of government” on poor black citizens in Ferguson, Missouri (Chait 2014). The extensiveness of police repression and harassment, deployed to extract revenues for the municipality, looked eerily similar to the practices of authoritarian regimes. The government of a small inner-ring suburb of St. Louis, we learned, had designed an aggressive system of “poverty traps” for the citizens. Ferguson residents, primarily poor and black, were targeted, arrested, and summonsed on civil-ordinance violations; they were assessed prohibitive fines and fees and subjected to jail if they failed to pay (US Department of Justice 2015). Many discovered it was almost impossible to escape the resulting cycle of perpetual debt, which often drew them into further entanglements with police and courts. It soon became clear that whereas Ferguson officials may have been masterful in their repression and pilfering—generating an average of three arrest warrants per household and fees sufficient to sustain a municipal government—they were hardly alone. Local governments around the country, which also approached their poor black and Latino residents as suspect populations, were actively pursuing similar projects of governance (Harris 2016). As a popular uprising emerged, journalists quickly set to work, adding to the damning evidence in the DOJ report and constructing varied interpretations of the newly visible municipal repression and collusion between the municipality’s budgetary arm and its police forces. The same dramatic events, however, appeared to catch off guard many in our field of political science, in unfamiliar empirical territory and lacking a conceptual language to describe what unfolded. Indeed, the American politics subfield appeared to be ill-prepared for Ferguson—out of step in a manner reminiscent of its fumbled responses to the social injustices of Hurricane Katrina a decade earlier and waves of urban rioting and protest several decades before that (Frymer, Strolovitch, and Warren 2006).